Life of an Heir
by jewlzbird
Summary: Tom Riddle has finally arrived at Hogwarts and is starting to become the Voldemort we all know best as the days go by. This is the story of Voldemort when he was at Hogwarts and of all the terrible things he did then. Sequel to Life of a Boy! Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

As soon as he was out the door, Tom was running as fast as his trunk would allow him to

As soon as he was out the door, Tom was running as fast as his trunk would allow him to. Excitement was coursing through his veins as he neared the bus stop. Paying the proper bus fare, Tom found himself a seat near the front of the bus so he wouldn't have to drag his trunk all the way to the end and back. As he watched the city of London roll by, Tom reflected upon the last few days of his normal life.

Several days ago, an old man named Dumbledore had come to offer a spot at his school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. At first, Tom didn't believe him, but the Professor showed him magical things; things that couldn't happen if magic _didn't_ exist.

Then he was off to Diagon Alley, one of the only places in Britain that held wizarding shops. There he bought all sorts of strange, yet interesting things that he would need for his first year at school. The books were so intriguing, and the theory complicated yet aroused his interest so easily. Most importantly, he bought a _wand_. A real, wooden wand made of Yew and Phoenix feather and was thirteen and a half inches long. Tom's fingers were itching to try out his new wand. He knew he could make it work properly. After all, he'd been doing magic for years, according to Dumbledore! _Using a wand should make it even easier, actually, _he thought._ That is, if it even _can_ get any easier. _

He had also bought a plain old black diary so he could record his years at Hogwarts on paper. So far he had only written once in it, but he had a feeling that he would be using it again that night.

Soon the bus was approaching the King's Cross Station. Tom jumped up excitedly and, thanking the driver, he jumped off the bus and headed quickly towards the station. He then realized that it was only 9:30, so he didn't need to hurry. The train was scheduled to leave at eleven a.m. sharp; therefore he had an hour and a half until he even had to be on the train. He also realized that he must have been looking rather strange, what with his large trunk, old clothes and running as if his life depended on it. Instead he slowed his pace to a brisk walk.

Tom pulled out his ticket and peered at it. Platform nine and three quarters? He wasn't sure that this platform existed, but nevertheless, he kept going. Perhaps it went unnoticed by most people and was therefore unpopular amidst the muggles? As he neared platform nine, Tom began looking around frantically. Where was it? There was platform nine, and there was ten; so could nine and three quarters be somewhere in between? Tom cautiously approached the wall and gazed at it warily. If he were to think logically, then he would assume that the platform must be somewhere else. However, this was magic! If magic was logical, then he didn't know what math would be. Tom soon decided that the platform should indeed be in between nine and ten; but how to get to it?

Tom looked around. The train station wasn't too busy, and those who were present seemed to walk by him without a second glace at his trunk and him staring blankly at a wall. Satisfied, Tom took one step forward and lifted his hand to knock on the wall, but-

"What the…?" Tom muttered. His hand had gone through the wall. _Through the wall?_ Tom smirked as he realized that this must be an entrance of some sort. Bracing himself, he wheeled his trunk around, took one last glance at the Muggle world and walked through the wall.

What he saw on the other side rivaled to all the other trains in King's Cross. There was a magnificent, tooting red train bearing the words "The Hogwarts Express" in gold lettering. Steam was gently billowing out of the train, and though he knew it was rather early, the platform was not empty. There were several families standing together, talking raucously amongst each other. Tom suddenly felt very alone. _No, what am I talking about? I don't want to have to depend on some stupid matron! _Tom glared at the gathered witches and wizards as he passed them, but couldn't take his eyes off of them. They were all magical people, after all. Who knew what they could do to him?

Tom reached the door to the train and dragged his trunk inside. He walked through the train, noting that there were a few older wizards grouped together here and there, most likely exchanging stories of their summers. Tom continued on and found himself an empty compartment near the back of the train. Before storing his trunk away on the rack above his head, Tom took out one of his new books so that he wouldn't have to reach up for it later. Settling down comfortably, he began to read. 

A burst of laughter outside the compartment startled Tom out of his composed state. Looking up from his book, he realized that the train had become quite populated in the past hour. There were people everywhere; people walking through the train corridor, many out the window on the platform and most likely many already seated in other compartments along the train. Tom stuck his head out of his compartment and looked around at the assembled teenagers. They were talking much too loudly in his opinion. Shooting the group of friends a scathing look, Tom reentered the compartment and shut the door before sitting down and losing himself in his book once more.

A half hour later the train gave a loud toot and began to pick up speed. Tom could hear parents and families shouting their farewells and could see hands waving out the windows next to his. He paid them no mind and continued to silently read for the next few hours.

Later, Tom was dressed in his new Hogwarts robes and was exiting his compartment at last. He pushed himself down the aisle, careful not to collide painfully with any of the older students who were larger than him by far. He followed the sound of someone calling for the first years until he found himself in front of a large, sinister-looking black lake that seemed to stretch out for miles. Tom could scarcely see a building in the distance, but couldn't be sure. _After all, there should be mountains up here, seeing as we're in the north,_ Tom thought logically. The person who had been calling for the first years – perhaps it was a teacher, he did not know – now told the assembled group to get inside the boats in groups of four. It seemed that all the other first years were hesitant to approach the dark and murky water, so Tom took the opportunity to appear confident and brave and sat himself in the closest boat. Soon after the others followed. Four girls entered his boat and began to whisper excitedly. Tom glared ferociously at them and they quieted down as the boat began to lurch forwards.

After a few minutes of riding in the boat Tom could now see that the building he had sen was in fact a castle, a castle so large it looked like it could fit the whole of Britain inside. It was magnificent; there were many towers and turrets and it had an air of being around ever since the time of the dinosaurs. He would have to read _Hogwarts; a History_, a book he had seen in the bookshop, when he got a chance to visit the library.

Once the group left the boats, they began to walk steadily towards the grand oak doors of the castle. Inside was a large corridor with marble floors and strangely enough, suits of armor. _This place must_ really _be old_, Tom thought. They all gathered in front of another set of large doors and, a few moments later, were greeted by none other than Professor Dumbledore.

"Welcome to Hogwarts!" He greeted them warmly. "Before you all enter the Great Hall, I have a few things to inform you of. Firstly, you should all be notified that before you may sit at the tables and begin the feast, you will be sorted into your houses. This is a very important ceremony and I hope you all behave yourselves." The Professor sounded stern, but his eyes were twinkling merrily. Tom scowled at this. "There are four houses; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. They are all extremely noble and ancient houses. Your house will be like your family here at Hogwarts; you will sleep in your appropriate dormitory, take classes with your house peers and spend your free time in your house common-room. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, and any rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the highest amount of points will be awarded with the house cup, which is a great honor to receive at Hogwarts, as is the Quidditch cup, of course." Professor Dumbledore concluded. "Please wait here before I come to collect you for the Sorting Ceremony." With that, he turned and exited the corridor, humming an unfamiliar tune to himself. _What an odd old man_, Tom thought, snorting slightly.

A few minutes later Dumbledore returned and cheerfully motioned them to follow him into the Great Hall. The Great Hall was the largest room Tom had ever seen; it held four long tables at which were seated many students and one table at the front, facing the rest of the room. Tom assumed that those at that table were the Professors. The ceiling, Tom noted, didn't even _look_ like a ceiling. In fact, it resembled much like the sky as it was outside at that moment. There were thousands of candles suspended above the five tables and amidst the students Tom could see pearly, silver-white figures that could only be ghosts. Tom eyed them cautiously.

Dumbledore led them to the front of the Hall, where, on top of a wooden stool, was perched a ragged pointed hat. Tom was wondering what it was there for when suddenly it started to sing.

To sum it all up, the hat was called the Sorting Hat, and by putting the hat on his head, Tom would be sorted into one of the four Hogwarts houses. The Gryffindors were brave and noble, the Hufflepuffs were loyal, the Ravenclaws were smart and the Slytherins were ambitious and cunning. Tom was alternating guessing of being sorted into Ravenclaw or Slytherin. He vaguely wondered why on earth the students were applauding the stupid old hat as Dumbledore began to call out names of students.

"…Riddle, Tom."

Tom smirked to himself confidently as he strode up to the front of the Hall and sat on the stool. Dumbledore glanced at him oddly before placing the hat on his head. The hat slid down halfway past his eyes so Tom was left with staring at half of the room. What seemed like an eternity later, a snide voice began to murmur in his head.

"Hmm…" said the hat. Tom wondered idly why the hat was talking to him instead of sorting him into a house. "Let me see here. There's lots of talent, no doubt you would do well in Ravenclaw, but I see much ambition and cunning thoughts in your head. I think you'd best be off in SLYHERIN!"

Tom felt the hat being lifted off his head and stood up, dusting off his robes before heading for the table farthest from the hat, where witches and wizards were clapping at his arrival. Tom put up his polite smile and shook the proffered hands before seating himself next to a boy he recalled to be named Antonin Dolohov.

The headmaster, Professor Dippet, stood up a few minutes later as the last student was sorted and spoke to the entire hall about many things that were of no importance to Tom. He zoned out but kept his gaze on the headmaster to start up his reputation of being a new student. Once the man sat down once more, the empty golden plates filled up simultaneously with mountains of food. Tom happily served himself and ate the food calmly, watching the other students conversing with one another. Soon the plates refilled themselves with heaps of different desserts, and once those disappeared, the Headmaster dismissed them all and the Hall was filled with the sound of benches scraping the ground as hundreds of students stood to go to their dormitories. Tom followed the Slytherin prefect down many stairs and tried his best to remember the twisted, unfamiliar path. It was very cold, but Tom paid no mind; he, in fact, had always preferred the cold rather than the heat. They stopped in front of a stretch of stone wall.

"Parselmouth," said the prefect, and the wall opened as if it was a door to reveal a damp, dimly lit room. There were green couches scattered here and there and a fire that seemed to emit no warmth. The prefect told them where their dormitories were and Tom went up the staircase and found his bed next to the window. Five other boys followed him, looking around curiously.

"Hello," said one finally. Tom glanced at him and found that he couldn't remember his name. "I'm Paul Rosier." He looked around at the other boys in the room as if in askance to their names as well.

"Henry Lestrange."

"Septimus Nott."

"Antonin Dolohov."

"Andrew Mulciber."

Tom said nothing. The five boys looked at him expectantly. "Tom. Tom Riddle."

"Well, it's nice to meet you all," Said Antonin Dolohov (but it did not look like he actually meant it), "but I'm tired. So I'll see you guys in the morning." The boys nodded and each went to their respective beds. When Tom was sure that they were all asleep, he took out his diary and wrote down every detail of his day that he could remember. One thing was for sure; he could not wait until tomorrow.

**Author's Note:** HELLO! In case anyone doesn't know, this is the sequel to Life of a Boy and while it is recommended (by me, of course) to read that first it's not really necessary. Anyways, here's chapter one! Just a few things to mention; I think I was right to assume that it's always the Transfiguration teacher who welcomes the first years, which is why I used Dumbledore (may he rest in peace). I know his speech is like almost the same as McGonagall's, but I figured that it would pretty much be the same anyways. And sorry for the lack of Sorting Hat song, but I REALLY can't rhyme. Lets see…I think that's all I got to say. Oh yeah! Notice Tom's non-liking of Dumbledore – like calling him Dumbledore instead of Professor Dumbledore as opposed to as he called Professor Dippet by Professor….Ok, I'm not making sense. Hope you enjoyed the chapter and please leave a review :)


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Tom woke up and almost expected to see the gray, peeling ceiling of the orphanage back in London

The next morning Tom woke up and almost expected to see the gray, peeling ceiling of the orphanage back in London. Instead, he was shocked to realize that this was not a dream, and that he was really at Hogwarts. Allowing himself a small smile, he sat up and looked around. The other boys in his dormitory were slowly beginning to awake as well, so Tom took advantage of their grogginess and went to use the bathroom.

A half hour later Tom was eating his first Hogwarts breakfast. Considering that the orphanage served porridge and orange juice for breakfast, this was quite nice in comparison. There was bacon, eggs, toast, marmalade, cereal and much more. Tom had never seen such a spread, and therefore served himself a bit of everything. Though it was quite busy in the Great Hall, it was enjoyable to have a chance to eat without younger children bustling around him.

Tom glanced up as a burst of complaints were issued down the table.

"Transfiguration! With the Gryffindors! That's not fair, Professor!" said a rather distraught Slytherin. The portly man beside him chuckled.

"Don't worry, dear children! They won't curse you…Or at least they usually don't." said the man. Tom assumed he was the head of Slytherin. He was walking down the table, handing out papers to each student.

"Ah, first years!" said the man cheerfully. Tom wondered how a man could look so happy at seeing new students. "Here you are!" He said, handing each a paper. Tom looked at his. It appeared to be a schedule. His first class was Potions, and was starting in ten minutes, so Tom quickly finished his last bite, swung his worn out knapsack over his shoulder and made his way to the grand oak doors of the Great Hall. Upon glancing over his shoulder, Tom saw Dumbledore's recognizable auburn beard. Was it just his imagination, or had Dumbledore seemed to watch him very keenly? Tom shook his head quickly, as if he had found a fly on his nose and was trying to shake it off.

The journey down to the dungeon was rather uneventful. Tom passed older students who didn't look like they cared whether they were late or not and some who were walking quickly as he was, perhaps anxious to start their lessons, or maybe because they didn't want to get punished.

When Tom entered the Potions classroom, he found it to be almost empty. Shrugging, he made his way to a table nearby and took out his cauldron, ingredients, books and cauldron and arranged them neatly. Five minutes later, the classroom was filled, the bell rang and the portly man from earlier stumbled into the room, smiling hugely.

"Welcome, welcome! I am Professor Slughorn, and I teach – obviously – Potions!" Professor Slughorn looked almost too happy to be there. Professor Slughorn moved in front of his desk, clasped his hands together and began to speak.

"As I know some of you are muggle-born, and will probably be wondering if we are going to be brewing poison or some evil potion made by a warty witch from a fairy tale." There was some nervous chuckles around the room. Apparently, some _had_ been thinking this. "The answer is no. For one thing, poisons are quite difficult to make and will only be researched on for now."

Professor Slughorn then proceeded to talk about the art of potion making, the uses of the ingredients, potions they would attempt to make at some point in the year and many other things that were not exactly interesting, but Tom listened carefully all the same. If he was to prove himself, he would need to know these things.

Next was Transfiguration with Dumbledore. Dumbledore, too, was cheery, but once he got down to business he was serious enough. Transfiguration turned out to be a very interesting subject; Tom just wasn't so sure he liked the wizard teaching it.

Dumbledore was giving off an aura of being a very kind person, perhaps too kind. A caring person, but one who wouldn't pay attention to one's needs when trying to help that person. He was also very, _very_ observant. It was as if he could survey the entire room with one glance, and with that glance see every single visual detail of everything and everyone. This was quite unnerving to Tom. He was so accustomed to having people ignore him or never pay attention to things that were right in front of them. Like, for example, with his magic. Fools.

Then there was Charms with Professor Stonar, who was very strict and not pleasant at all. That was how it was supposed to be with teachers, and so Tom ended up liking this teacher best so far.

Herbology didn't appeal very much to Tom. Sure, it was useful in potion making and in medicine, but it was so mundane. There was nothing to learn, nothing all that magical about it. It was like gardening, which Tom had never enjoyed, but with very odd plants.

History of Magic was…odd. A ghost, named Professor Binns, was their teacher, and the fact that he was a ghost made it even more odd. Professor Binns liked to talk in a monotonous voice, which was a very good thing. Tom often got distracted by the emotions and tones in people's voices and found this flat, dead voice to be helpful for him to concentrate. The odd thing was that all the other students seemed to be in a trance of some sort. Some were sleeping, some were staring into space, and some were doing random things that were irrelevant to the subject. Learning the history of the magical world was fascinating, in Tom's opinion.

What seemed to be the worst class was flying lessons. Once a week, Tom and his classmates had flying lessons. Everyone was so excited to fly; Tom wasn't looking forward to it much. In fact, it got quite boring. Preferring the idea of a challenge, Tom quickly dismissed flying as unimportant and not interesting at all, considering that he got the flying down pat after being in the air only once.

Then there was Defense Against the Dark Arts, the best of them all. This was a class to help them learn how to defend one's self in a duel (and how to duel as well, of course). The textbook mentioned curses, hexes and jinxes that Tom was so eager to discover and to try, but they were for higher grade levels and he didn't want to get in trouble. What interested him most was the idea of "Dark Arts" itself. Of doing sacred rituals, dark, ancient magic, it was all so intriguing.

The day flew by quickly. Soon Tom was back in the great hall, eating dinner and trying to ignore the fact that Dumbledore was watching him closely. It seemed like he was doing that all day. Perhaps the professor was just making sure he was settling in well, he reasoned. After all, he did give off an air of over-kindness.

Soon they were all back in the dormitory, preparing for bed. There was am awkward, tense silence that filled the room, yet Tom didn't mind the silence as much as the other boys did. Finally, one of them spoke.

"So, uh…What do you guys think of this place?" asked Antonin Dolohov, gesturing vaguely at the dormitory.

"I like it." Septimus Nott said. "It's very homey, I think." Tom snorted quietly, and the boy reeled around to face him, squinting in an unfriendly way at him. "You got a problem?"

"No, no, nothing." Tom said innocently. Nott huffed at him and turned to face the others, not noticing the grimace Tom made at his back. The others sniggered.

"I think we should get to know each other better," Nott announced firmly. "...We can all be friends, can't we?"

The boys nodded in agreement, Tom doing so hesitantly. He liked to work alone.

And so the six boys talked for a few minutes, though Tom gave little contribution. The five other boys seemed rather wary of him, but he paid no attention. What did they matter?

**Author's Note:** Hope you guys liked the chapter… I wasn't sure if Binns would be ok for HOM, since he was a teacher during Harry's time, but I figured that he's a ghost, and most of them seemed to have been hanging around for quite a while. Until next time, please review!


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